Echo
by Kalgalen
Summary: Technically, it's the perfect place to disappear from the outside world. Technically. Because there's something wrong with that house. There's somebody watching him.


Word count: 1246

Written for massiveheadtraumabay on Tumlr who requested a Loloix ghost/living person AU~

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><p>The house is quite recent - ten, fifteen years old, give or take. White walls, a bit crackled and dirtied by the passage of time and the weather, pierced by a handful of windows. Their frame, like the main door, is brown. Whether or not the constructors were trying to make it look like wood is impossible to determine. Surrounded as it is by a parcel of earth so weedy that it's impossible to call it a garden, it's the most unwelcoming house of the block. It's small: two stories, a cellar. There are two bedrooms upstairs, one of which has been rearranged into a study, and the bathroom. Downstairs is separated between a rudimentary kitchen and a living room.<p>

It's minimal, the least he could get giving his average salary, but it's unassuming and isolated enough. More important, the neighborhood is mostly composed of apartments occupied by college students too stressed out with their job and classes to come and bother him with housewarming presents.

Locus knows. He checked.

Technically, it's the perfect place to disappear from the outside world.

Technically. Because there's something wrong with that house.

There's somebody watching him.

Locus knows the feeling of being observed, but he's usually the one doing the observation.

He already swept the house for bugs several times - in his line of work, you're never too careful - without finding anything more than dust and abandoned spider webs. Still, he stays suspicious of every shadow. Notices every time a door closes without his input, blinks in the dark when the sound of footsteps or the ghost of a laugh stirs him awake. Were he less confident in his senses and training, he'd just dismiss all those clues as figment of his imagination.

It's not until he's been here for a couple of months that the origin of the events become more obvious.

"You're boring," a voice says.

The tone is annoyed; it sounds muffled, as if coming from behind a wall. Locus raises his eyes from his book and sets it on the coffee table, careful not to make any sudden moves. He mentally makes out a list of every opening between the inside of the house and the outside: front door, back door, two windows on the south side of the house, one on the north, one on the west. All locked. The two skylights in the bedrooms are open, but the chances of somebody climbing on the roof and managing to slip through the narrow openings are slim.

"Who are you?"

Locus isn't expecting any answers and, sure enough, a low chuckle is all he gets for a reply. He rises slowly on his feet, his hand going for the gun tucked in his belt. He thumbs the safety off, walking to the doorway. Throws a look in the corridor. Nothing.

Another short laugh. Behind him.

"That's a nice toy. Who are you gonna kill with that?"

Locus turns around, quick, the barrel of his weapon searching for a target. There's none.

Correction: not really.

There's a…shape. A human shape, as far as Locus can tell. It's slumped in the armchair he just left, legs extended and feet resting on the coffee table. Locus can only discern the outline of its body, but it's becoming more and more opaque by the second.

"What the fuck," he mutters to himself.

The intruder seems amused.

"That's the first time I hear you swear." It tilts its head on the side. "First time I hear you talk, actually."

The silhouette flickers; a fraction of second later, it's standing just in front of Locus. He whips his gun up, pointed directly at the trespasser's forehead. The guy - Locus supposes, from the shape of his jaw and his flat chest - takes a step forward. The barrel of the firearm phases through his skull, and the weapon suddenly feels cold and heavy in Locus' man smiles at him lazily, with a hint of perversion. He's obviously waiting for Locus to run away screaming. Locus frowns. Not happening.

"Who are you?" he asks, keeping the gun up.

The intruder blinks, surprised at his reaction - or lack thereof. His eyes are dark, like two drops of ink in the colorlessness of his face.

"Felix," he says finally. "Your...uninvited roommate, I guess you could say."

"Roommate?" Locus repeats. "How long have you been there?"

Bark of laughter from Felix.

"For much, much longer than you, sweetheart. I'm also the reason why the rent is so cheap, so show some gratitude and get that gun out of my face."

Locus hesitates. He doesn't trust that guy, but if a piece of metal in his head doesn't bother him, chances are bullets won't trouble him either.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, but keeps the gun in his hand. Felix looks satisfied.

"What are you?" Locus asks, considering the translucent body in front of him. He has an idea of the answer, but it seems too crazy, too ridiculous.

Felix cocks a pierced eyebrow.

"You know what I am." Pause. "You don't want to believe it."

Locus looks away. He never believed in a life after death. Made his job easier.

He tenses up when Felix lifts a hand and places it on his chest. His fingers sink effortlessly in Locus' rib cage, wrapping themselves around Locus' heart in a freezing grip.

"I lived here, I died here, and now I'm trapped here. I'm a shadow, an echo."

His voice has gone lower, more ominous. Angry. He squeezes briefly on the beating muscle keeping Locus alive, and for a second Locus thinks the ghost might just be trying to kill him. But then the pressure is gone, and Felix is looking at him, eyes narrowed.

"Why are you still here? Most people leave pretty quickly when they realize they're not alone."

Locus shrugs, doing his best to look entirely in control of himself.

"I'm not easily frightened."

Felix chuckles.

"Oh yeah?"

Stains appear on his stomach, bright red, spreading quickly, darkening in their middle. There are splatters on his arms, on his face. It doesn't take a genius to figure out this is blood. Locus also notices the trackmarks in the crook of one arm and the bruises on his neck and shoulders. The man in front of him looks like a walking corpse. Felix smiles - missing tooth and blood on his lips. His right eye is swollen, circled with red and purple.

"Still not scared?"

"...How did you die?"

Felix seems taken aback.

"What?"

"How did you die?" Locus repeats. It sounds like a good thing to ask.

"That's..." Felix blinks a couple of time before answering. "...I got shot. That's the kind of thing that happen when a couple discovers they're cheating on each other with the same person - and that said person has been gathering evidence to blackmail them."

Silence. Then Felix shrugs.

"Eh, worth it. Their face when they found out was pretty funny." He glances down at the wounds. "Their reaction sucked, though."

He looks back up at Locus, expectant. The blood vanishes and the bruises disappear.

"Are you...going to stay?" he asks, suddenly coy.

"Are you scared to be alone?" Locus answers.

"Fuck you."

"Yes. I will stay." Locus crosses his arms and takes a bored expression. "Like you said, rent is cheap."

Felix grins.

"I can make pipes leak and the ceiling crack to lower it even more, if you want."

"Don't."


End file.
